All Eyes on Me
by Spirit of the Lost
Summary: Draco Malfoy has lived his life the center of attention... and he loves it. Now, though, his sworn rival won't even acknowledge his presence. What's a Slytherin to do? Anything. HPDM slash.
1. Prologue Summer News

Disclaimer: I in no way, shape, or form own Harry Potter. Trust me, you should be glad I don't, it would be completely ruined if I did. Anyway, don't sue, I don't have any money and I'm certainly not making any, so you wouldn't get a whole lot.

**Warning**: This is a Draco/Harry fic. This story _will_ be slash. see that? SLASH, as in the main pairing is two guys. If you don'tlike it, fine.Then don't read this fic. I refuse to put upwith peoplewho are idiotically prejudiced. I'm not tolerant. If you don't want to hear about homosexuality then leave.

AN: the rating on this may change. I've not exactly got it all written out.You know as much as I do what will happen in later chapters. Just so you know.

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**Prologue**

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was known to be one of the safest, most peaceful, and most comforting places during the dark times that so often plagued the wizarding world. All but those who served the current, reigning evil power knew that they would be welcome at the castle when they were no longer safe in their own homes. Nothing could ever seem to taint the serenity of the lake at sunset, watching the giant squid as it lazily drifted its tentacles across the surface. The sheer joy that could be found among the students, an enheartening defiance of the fear that the impending war drove into the majority of the magical society. It had always been so.

In June of 1996 the British Ministry of Magic, located in London, England, made the formal announcement that Lord Voldemort, an evil entity who had seemingly perished nearly 15 years before, had once again returned to power. It was clear to many that the year in which the ministry had denied Voldemort's presence, in opposition to the claims of two of the most trusted wizards on the planet, had cost them dearly in terms of tactical advantage. The dark lord had had more than enough time to regenerate, reassemble his ranks of Deatheaters, and begin planning his world domination. When the news had made it out, the lord had deemed it unnecessary to continue hiding his returned presence. His attacks had started immediately while the ministry attempted to recuperate. The aurors and unspeakables and all other forces opposing his deatheaters had been as much in the dark as the rest of the community. They weren't ready to go out in large-scale combat.

The results were devastating. Every openly muggleborn witch or wizard currently in Hogwarts attendance, their family, and their neighborhood was attacked. The aurors only managed to reach a few of the homes in time. Some managed to hold their own in some bizarre way or another. Others were able to hide. Hundreds of muggles were killed, though, and most of the students didn't make it. One week later, as the ministry tried to get a hold on the situation, the half bloods were attacked as well. There was a difference the second time, though. A secret organization that had come to be known as the Order of the Phoenix had anticipated the move after the quick and catastrophic attack on the muggleborns. Their numbers were too few to be able to protect all, but they were able to set wards that gave them a slight advantage. The wards would automatically alert them when the opposing party apparated into the area, and they would temporarily freeze the offenders in an attempt to give the order enough time to group and warn the aurors. The mortalities were less, but over one hundred people, muggle and magical alike, were killed.

The ministry and the order walked on eggshells for the next month, preparing for another attack. An attack that never came. In the meanwhile they tried to sort through the aftermath of the massacres. In the last war with Voldemort they had been ready. They had known that he was rising to power, gathering minions, and plotting the destruction of non-magical humanity. They had been able to prepare. They had not had that luxury this time around and it was made obvious by the numbers that appeared in newspapers all over the world. The Daily Prophet gave out the statistics: 637 muggles killed, 128 witches and wizards killed (including muggleborns, aurors, and deatheaters), 69 attacked muggles survived, 21 attacked witches and wizards survived, approximately 412 deaths averted by the actions of the Ministry of Magic and the Order of the Phoenix, approximately 502 muggles gained knowledge of the magical community, 0 muggles have been obliviated.

Only a select few muggle families had had their memories erased, at their own request. The others had been asked to keep it quiet, but it was highly unlikely that magic would remain a secret for long. The governments of the world had been contacted and informed by their country's corresponding magical government. A true world war was on the verge of eruption and if it came to that then no one would be safe. It wasn't fair to the muggles to lay this upon them without letting them know what _'this'_ was. It seemed that one man really was enough to force two worlds together. He was determined to make "pure" blood the only remaining force in the world. All others would have to go. The attacks continued on a smaller, more seemingly random scale.

By the end of August, 26 refugee families took sanctuary in Hogwarts, a total of 117 people. 4 families were completely magical, 7 had 1-3 magical members among an otherwise muggle family. They had gone to seek safety in a place where so many had before, where they were sometimes reminded of the war, but they didn't have to worry about being attacked again. They were seeking a place with at least some semblance of peace and happiness.

September second taught the new residents that they hadn't fled from the fighting. They'd walked into the heart of it.


	2. Chapter 1 Hogwarts Express

Disclaimer: We don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters, places, items, etc. that you may recognize from the series. We might own the plot once we figure out what exactly it might be. Other than that, though, we're just a writer with some serious problems and no money what so ever. Don't sue, please.

A/N: okay. So this chapter should have been out over a week ago… but things haven't exactly been working in our favor. We moved away last July and had to work on fitting in there… including starting school a month earlier than we are used to. So we started school August 9th. Then, in January, our parents said: "Wanna move back?", so we said yes… slight problem there. School here doesn't let out until June 10th. That's an extra 2 months of school for this year, and we're just tired of it. So on our midterm we received two F's and a D… our parents aren't going to be happy when they find out. Also, they weren't going to let us into club… and our mom is still divorcing our step-dad and she had to call the police on his nephew… and while we are there we not only need to watch our two little brothers, we also have to watch her boyfriend's kids… There are three of them. One of them is one year younger than us. We have to watch them all. That is sad. Now, several of our friends are at anime convention and we can't go… and don't ask why we are referring to ourselves in the plural… it's all Penguin's fault. clears throat ahem… well, enough with the annoying complaining. I'm sorry. On with the show:

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Chapter 1

Draco Malfoy had spent the last four hours indulging his house and year-mates. He had sat patiently, with a politely interested look on his face as they spoke of their summer, parents, the dark lord, themselves. They talked about anything they could think of, and Draco let them. He sat there for four hours and just listened.

Four hours is a long time to just sit and listen. His back began to ache and his usually perfect posture started to slump. A fractional slouch in his shoulders and half-lidded eyes betrayed his boredom to all who cared to notice. Fortunately, no one did.

Shortly after the fourth hour, Pansy Parkinson finished her rather long-winded complaint on the management of Hogwarts. She scowled to prove her hatred of the school's current administration. Her uniquely pretty face, even despite the pug nose, transformed into something ugly. Another Slytherin opened their mouth to start a new subject when Draco stood.

"I still need to check in at the prefect's compartment," he stated by way of excuse. No one questioned him, nodding in agreement as he stalked out of their presence. Most of the compartments had closed doors, behind which lay masses of laughing students, all glad to be getting away to a place where they didn't have to worry about deatheaters. Some doors were left open and loud, raucous, but friendly noises drifted into the hall as he walked down it. He absently wished he could have that. But no, it was impossible.

He truly did need to check in with the other prefects and the heads, but he would take his time in getting there. For just a moment he wanted to forget duty and responsibility. Draco had officially been elected "Prince" of Slytherin the year before. In the strict, self-imposed government of the Slytherin house it was an honor. An honor that was rejected by the very nature of every Slytherin.

Slytherin Rules of Conduct, section 3, paragraph 2: "The Prince/Princess is to be a student who has proven themselves to be a true Slytherin. As the house's leader and spokesperson they must also have traits that will allow them to communicate peacefully with the other Hogwarts houses. These traits including, but not restricted to: trustworthiness and honesty, intelligence and wisdom, bravery and selflessness. A majority vote by the entire house will decide the student to take the position of Prince/Princess.

"The Prince/Princess must conduct themselves in a manner befitting their house and position. They must listen to whatever complaints the other students of Slytherin may have and deal with them accordingly. They may not advertise their views on blood, house relationships, faculty members, etc. in a way that may affect the views of other students. They may not _start_ any fighting with other houses, but action must be taken when their house or a member of it, including themselves, are challenged or threatened. If they do not act as is acceptable for their position they will be stripped of their title and disowned by the house."

A Slytherin putting others before himself. It was shameful as far as Draco was concerned, though he kept those thoughts to himself for fear of losing the position. It was worth it to suffer through being the prince if it kept him in Slytherin and the public eye. He may not have been able to start fights or ignore the whining first and second years, but he received far more attention than he had as just Malfoy. He couldn't wait, though, to see Potter and his friends. Weasley was sure to verbally attack him if he even stepped within ten feet of them. Once the redhead had done that it was safe for Draco to respond without being polite. While it was true that he would now have to reconcile and find his way into good graces with the other houses, he refused to get along with that group.

Almost to the prefects cabin, he took another look in the compartments around him. One held a group of 4th year Slytherins with whom he'd met at the end of the year before to sort out conflicts between them. Despite not wanting the extra responsibility, Draco took his job seriously, and he knew that with everything that was going on outside of Hogwarts they would have enough hostility from the other houses without having it in their own. He'd forced the students to deal with their dislike of each other. Now, they were all sitting together, playing exploding snap and discussing teachers from the sound of it.

A glance to his other side revealed a completely different scene. One third of the "Golden Trio", as he had heard them called, sat in complete silence, staring out the window at the passing foliage. Draco had never seen Harry Potter looking so cold and… lost. The boy's body was curled up on the seat, forehead pressed against the dark window that had to be cold from the pouring rain. His emerald green eyes were half-lidded in what seemed to be exhaustion, and something had caused the usually bright orbs to fall dim. Bags lay under his eyes, looking even worse than they probably were against his unnaturally pale skin. His entire being seemed to scream defeat. It amazed the blond that Weasley and Granger would even think of leaving the boy-who-lived while he was in this state. The couple usually seemed scarily overprotective of him, just as he was for them.

Trying to shrug the vision from his mind, Draco walked the last small stretch to the prefects' compartment. Upon entering, he found the two missing Gryffindors, and they looked nearly as desolate as their friend. Weasley sat as Potter did, leaning against the wall next to the window, one leg thrown across the seat. Granger sat between his legs, leaning into his shoulder as she fought tears. It was painful to see the broken looks upon the faces of the trio.

Draco knew that at least part of their troubles had to do with the events of the summer. Said events had caused him to see muggles in a new light. For Granger the changes the summer brought were not good ones. Her neighborhood had been among the first of the attacks. Though they had fought back, caused the deatheaters losses, the girl's family had been killed. It was amazing that the girl was still alive but, according to Draco's sources, she hadn't been home at the time.

The door closed with little noise, but it was enough to catch Weasley's attention. The moment the redhead's eyes fell on Draco his despairing expression turned to a cold, hateful glare. Granger's gaze followed suit as her boyfriend's stiffened body alerted her to the Slytherin's presence. Still, she tried to stop Weasley when he opened his mouth to confront their enemy. She was unsuccessful.

"What the bloody hell do you want, ferret? Come to gloat? Don't you think your kind have done enough?" He pushed hi girlfriend aside and stood, preparing to fight. "Come on, Malfoy. Daddy's name isn't going to save you anymore. He won't be coming to your rescue." Draco just turned and made his way to the heads. Assignments, passwords, it wasn't anything new and the whole ordeal took less than five minutes. As he passe the couple again, he finally made his remark.

"I'm not a deatheater, Weasley. I never will be. Therefore, I have nothing to gloat about. And trust me Weasel, I know better than anyone that my father won't be doing much of anything to anyone for quite a while. Unlike you, I don't need anyone to save me… You know, you'd think you'd have learned by now. Your tongue will get you in trouble, Weasley. You wouldn't want anything to happen to your little muggleborn, would you?" Weasley growled, but by the time he went to retort, Draco was gone.

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Harry could feel the questioning eyes as they raked his form. After a lifetime of being hit shortly after receiving such looks, Harry was usually hard pressed not to flinch. Now, though, he didn't care. Nothing seemed to matter, The presence lasted longer than was necessary, but he didn't blame them. He knew that he looked as thought he'd gone to hell and back… twice. The last time he'd cared to glance in the mirror he had seen a wraith. A ghost of it now obscured his view of the passing landscape. It didn't make much of a difference, though, as the rain blanketed it anyway.

As the gaze passed, Harry allowed his mind to wander. That summer had been difficult, for everyone. Sirius' death had weighed heavy on Harry's mind. He understood that he was a main character in this war, that deaths such as Sirius' or Cedric's were inevitable, and that he couldn't blame himself for them, but the guilt lingered. And no the list was growing. His parents, Quirell, Cedric, Sirius, Hermione's parents, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Seamus Finnigan's father, Dean Thomas, and so many others. He had tried not to "wallow in self pity", as Hermione termed it, but that was asking the impossible.

He didn't like being the savior, but in his subconscious he had resigned himself to it and took it seriously. How could he ever forgive himself for being safe at the Dursley's, hidden from attack, while the people he was supposed to save were killed? Voldemort himself went with several of the raids, generally accompanying Lucius Malfoy, who had escaped Azkaban less than a month after his imprisonment. Harry, still a failure in occlumency, watched as his friends, students in D.A., and their families were tortured and murdered. His heart had leapt in hope as a crucioed Mr. Granger pulled out a gun and shot Malfoy in the spine as he turned to leave. Tom may have killed the man without a second thought, but he also was down a right-hand man as the blond lay on the carpet bleeding and paralyzed.

Momentarily shook out of his reflection, Harry glanced around himself. His friends had fled when Hermione realized that, no matter what she said, Harry would blame himself for the summer's deaths. He vaguely recalled saying something about her being an orphan and hearing her sobs as Ron led her out of the enclosed space and down the hall. They had left everything as it was. Bertie Bott's were scattered on the floor. A chocolate frog sat forgotten on the seat next to an elusive Circe card. One of Herm's books and a quill lay where they had been carefully set with reverence the young woman held only for books.

An exhausted sigh managed to escape his dry lips as he thought of the books stashed in his own trunk. The war had been thrown in his face, and before he could react, he was chained in the center of it, the bulls-eye awaiting the well-aimed arrow. With no way to help and visions from which he would have liked to escape, Harry spent most of his free time, including usual sleeping hours, reading his text books and other spell and theory books he had received. He knew every spell, charm, plant, dark creature, transfiguration, and even potion they would learn in the next year as well as he was able to fix them into his mind. He may not have been happy with the way his life was going, but he was determined to get through it alive, if only to prevent the deaths of even more innocents. When he arrived at Hogwarts, he would go to Snape, apologize, and ask to continue the occlumency lessons. He just didn't know how strong he could be when watching people be tortured every night.

The gaze returned. This time, Harry waited a minute, then turned to look at whoever owned the staring eyes. Green met grey. Schooling is expression into one of indifference rather than depression, he paused a moment, then turned back to the window. He had more important things to do than fight with Slytherin's new royalty. Malfoy would soon realize that he was not the center of the universe. Harry wouldn't give him a glance, let alone the time of day.

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Hermione glared at her boyfriend as Malfoy left. She understood his anger, but he had pushed her aside and attacked without provocation. How did that make them better human beings? Yes, she hated the elder Malfoy for what he'd done, and she disliked the younger, but Draco himself had never done anything but call her names. He had not instigated a fight, had not responded in a negative manner, and so there was no reason to attack him.

When she got Ron sitting and calmed down, she cast a quick glance back in the direction Malfoy had left. Something had changed. He had not started the fight, mentioned Ron's money, or called her a mudblood. He had denied being a deatheater and Harry had not been brought into the argument. It was obvious even in his looks. He now held an air of being above simple derogatory comments and sneering, but altogether he seemed far more approachable. He was dressed more casually than she had ever seen him, and there was a grudging respect in his eyes when he glanced at her.

Ron, she realized, had been talking the whole time. Or rather, he had been complaining. He mumbled something like "first Harry, now Malfoy", and Hermione's thoughts returned to the reason they were still in the prefects' compartment.

Harry.

It had been a shock to see the boy when they arrived at the station that morning. Two glances and she realized it was him, three more and she sighed in relief at discovering he was not, in fact, as dead as he looked. There was, however, a part of him that had finally ceased to exist, crumbling under the weight of the deaths that seemed to snag on his conscience. When he had seen her, she caught a single tear sliding down his cheek before his face went mostly blank, and he hugged her.

"I'm sorry," he had whispered, genuinely apologizing, as if he himself had killed her parents. "Your parents, they fought spectacularly. Your father even shot Lucius Malfoy. I think he's paralyzed. You should be proud of them… I'm so, so sorry." The pain she had been trying to hold back broke free, and she started sobbing into his shoulder. She didn't have to ask how he knew. It was apparent, and she sobbed even harder for her friend who had obviously been cracked by the things he'd seen, if not broken.

"It's not your fault, Harry," she whispered, voice breaking beneath the strength of her sobs. "There was nothing you could have done. It's not your fault… Thank you for letting me know. I feel better knowing they at least made a mark. Thank you, Harry. I'm sorry. It's not your fault." Ron, who had put all their trunks away, came back and pulled them onto the train. It was only after the train had started that any of them moved or spoke. For three hours they talked of homework and their adventures of the years past. Then, Neville, Ginny, and Luna had popped in. It wasn't that Hermione didn't like Luna, but at times it seemed the girl was lacking even more tact than Ron. She had asked Harry how his summer had been. Upon seeing his haunted look, the other two had ushered her out.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. It really is my fault. If I wasn't trying to run from this stupid prophecy, from Sirius' memory… If I wasn't so damn weak… I should have done something rather than sitting safe at the Dursley's. Now you're an orphan, like me, and it's all my fault… I'm sorry." That had been the last straw for the girl, to watch this ghost of her friend and listen as he placed the last few piece of this wretched world on his shoulders. He was killing himself with the weight, and she couldn't bear to watch the morbid scene any longer. She had grabbed Ron's hand, mumbled something about the prefects' compartment, and took off.

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Albus Dumbledore stood at the window to his office, watching the sun set. The lake glittered a beautiful silver-purple as the lazy, blue-green tentacles of the giant squid grazed the surface. The whomping willow swayed in a gentle movement, looking for all the world like just another tree. A movement drew his gaze in the direction of Hagrid's hut where the half-giant was playing with his mastodon of a dog, entertaining a group of children and their parents who had come to collect them. It reminded him that the students were due in about an hour, and he had much to think about before then.

He and the order had been busy much of the summer with the attacks and dealing with the ministry, and the affects of such activity were showing in his face. He did his best to maintain a cheerful disposition or at least something that looked like one, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. The number of students returning this year had been cut down by at least one third, and the remaining Gryffindors and Slytherins were doubtful to make this year any easier than it had been in the past. With the war out in the open it was likely that the fighting in Hogwarts' halls would only increase. With the effects of that thought on his mind, he took a moment to pity those who had come to the school seeking sanctuary. They really didn't know what they had gotten themselves into.

His thoughts also lingered a great deal on Harry Potter. He knew the boy… young man, was angry with him. After the things he had done, the results, and the boy's reaction before the summer break, it was extremely doubtful that the fury he had been faced with had dwindled any. He understood, though, that his actions had caused the boy quite a bit of pain. He truly was only trying to do what he had thought was best. Harry was destined to defeat the dark lord, whether either of them liked it or not, and he needed to be trained as well as anyone would be able to train him. The boy… young man, would have to get used to the idea for the good of the world, for that truly was how serious it had now become.

Voldemort had taken the fight immediately to the muggles, exposing the wizarding world almost irreparably, and a revolution was on the uprising. Soon the muggle world and the wizarding world would clash, and there were only two outcomes to that scenario. The world as a whole would unite, magic and non-magic together, or the two sides would refuse to live together and a true world war would begin, of which there would most probably be only one side surviving. As confident as the pureblood were of their superiority, Albus had seen enough of the muggle world to know that it wasn't a sure win for the side of magic.

The headmaster was interrupted from his thoughts by the sound of singing and laughter filtering up through the open window. Down by the lake was a group of people who he had come to know rather well in the last month. The eldest was a muggle woman of 20, and it was she who was singing… for the most part. On her shoulder, almost blending in with her deep red hair, sat Fawkes, trilling along with the melody. Around the two-creature chorus were three boys and a girl, all dancing together, mock-singing at times. It was a wondrous thing to hear their laughter as they had lost their parents during the summer in a visit to an aunt. They still had family in the United States, but none wanted to risk air travel, or even a trip by ship, while Voldemort and his followers were at large.

The woman was Aoibhin, and she had agreed to co-teach Defense Against the Dark Arts with Remus Lupin, who was returning upon multiple requests from the headmaster, several parents, and even some ministry officials. Her oldest brother, Caeron, was 16 and a very competent muggle-born wizard. He was going to be joining the Ravenclaw house that night at dinner, while Tobias was to be sorted with the rest of the first years. The last brother, Jaden, was nine and was content to spend his days with the other children staying in the school, though doubtless he would prove trouble. Albus could already see signs of the Marauders and the Weasley twins in the boy. Artemis, the girl, was 2, and she was Aoibhin's daughter. That one was an enigma to the old man. She was unnaturally intelligent, but she still had a child's innocence, which was rare to find in these days. He didn't know what would become of her, but it was obvious already that she was no muggle.

He smiled at the two voices held out the last note for as long as they could before his eyes turned to the direction of Hogsmeade once again. A couple more hours and the halls would once again be crowded. Albus sighed, staring at the red sun in its royal purple backdrop. Two more hours and he still had not thought on all he needed to. What he wouldn't do to be done with this fight.

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A/N: okay, that's it for this chapter. I know a lot of people don't like oc's. I'm one of them. But with all the people who are currently staying at Hogwarts I don't think I could really get away without making some of them. I promise they won't have a big part, but it makes it a little easier to move the story along and show different points of view on the events occurring. Alright. Lemme know what you think. Constructive criticism is more than welcome, and I hope to have the next chapter out within a week.

Reviews:

Saltwater: sorry, it was just the prologue though. Hopefully this chapter meets up to your expectations. Thanks for reviewing.

HandsOff: Thanks.


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